Hayes kicked at a pebble with the toe of his cleat. “What ever happened to that girl you were seeing—the one from Muskegon?”
A laugh cracked out of my chest, a bit too loud and way too fast. “That really wasn’t anything. It fizzled fast.”
It was months ago and had fizzled because she wasn’t Selene. All because I’d met a stranger in a shitty jazz bar and had the best sex of my life. No woman measured up, and, frankly, I wasn’t all that bothered by that.
No. Selene was the only woman to leave me pacing the other side of a wall while she soaked in the tub with a book, and the sound of her sighing behind the door drove me half insane.
“Man,” Brody muttered, smirking, “you are fucking done for, kid.”
My scowl sliced in his direction. “Shut up.”
But they all knew.
A chorus of laughter rumbled through the group. I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting the breeze cut through the heat still clinging to my skin. The sun was behind the trees now, but the sky held on to that early autumn bruise-blue tint.
I had played a lot of games in my life and taken a lot of hits, but this felt like standing still and getting wrecked anyway.
When I opened my eyes, Hayes was watching me. Not judging, just ... assessing.
“She looks at you differently, you know,” he said simply. “They both do.” Hayes stood, stretching his back before clamping a hand on my shoulder. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
My jaw clenched. I didn’t answer, because I knew the truth. She did look at me differently, and I looked at her like I couldn’t stop.
I toldmyself I was just swinging by to grab my hoodie—the one Winnie had claimed and Selene had threatened to donate if I didn’t take it home.
It was an excuse. One even I barely believed.
The house was quiet when I pulled up. The porch light was on, just like always, but there was no TV glow through the window. It was surprising how quiet it was without Winnie’s voice tumbling through the screen door in a swirl of questions and glitter.
It was late. Her bedtime had come and gone, and because of that, I didn’t want to knock too loud. I wasn’t here to cause a scene or to wake up a sleeping kid who thought I hung the damn moon.
I knocked softly and waited. When there was no answer, my ears strained to hear anything coming from inside the duplex, but it was quiet.
I slowly cracked the door open and peeked inside, voice low. “Selene?”
No reply.
Then I could hear her. Faint movement toward the rear of the house. I knew the layout like the back of my hand—how the floor creaked just before the hallway turned, where the overhead light hummed near the laundry nook, the way the kitchen curtains fluttered with the slightest breeze.
I stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind me. My shoes thudded softly against the rug. The kitchen was dim with just the stove light on. A pan from dinner still rested beside the sink. It smelled faintly of tomato and basil. Something sweeter clung to the air—her shampoo, maybe, or the dryer sheets she liked.
The tumble of the dryer led me to her.
Selene was barefoot, wearing soft shorts and an old college tee that clung to her back in places and stretched loose in the neckline. Her hair was up, but barely—half undone in that way that made me ache. She had earbuds in, swaying slightly to music I couldn’t hear. Her hands moved with practiced rhythm as she folded a towel and dropped it into the basket.
I froze and stared for a heartbeat. Maybe longer.
The sight of her like that—unaware, relaxed, truly at home in her skin—hit me square in the chest. There was nothing performative there, just Selene, warm and wild and so fucking beautiful it almost hurt.
She turned and startled when she saw me.
A hand flew to her chest. “Jesus, Austin?—”
I laughed and held up my hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She pulled the earbuds out. One side of her shirt slid lower as she moved, baring the soft curve of her shoulder.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, but there was laughter in her voice.
